


Clockwork Figures

by Heavydirtys0ul, things-we-used-tc-share (Heavydirtys0ul)



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Everyone's wearing waistcoats, Gun violence mentioned, I can promise not a single element of this was fact checked, I'm here for a good time and to destroy capitalism and not much else, M/M, Morally ambiguous choices for a good cause, Morally grey!Patton, Multi, QPR!Remile, The language is a bit strange, aroace!Remy, except Remus he's just chaotic full stop, morally!grey all of them really, none of this is historically accurate, sex mention, steampunk! AU, trans!Emile, violence in several chapters but it's not all that gory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2020-09-21 23:48:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20308861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavydirtys0ul/pseuds/Heavydirtys0ul, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavydirtys0ul/pseuds/things-we-used-tc-share
Summary: In the mid-Victorian era, the world's best mechanists, scientists, and engineers proposed a solution to Queen Victoria's distaste of the famine and poverty of the ground world. The rich and famous get their own safe haven in the clouds; Utopia. Years later, a revolution is brewing, and a group of young men are going to be the ones to boil the pot, even if some of them are a little unwilling at first.--The characterisation is a little strange to get used too but I'm told that it grows on you. Kudos and Comments are very much appreciated!





	1. Introduction: Utopia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An introduction to the city in the sky.

Under the rule of Queen Victoria, the rich and wealthy of the English population were growing tired of the filth in which surrounded them; the streets clogged with dirt and the sky polluted with toxins. The Queen herself, bored with the mundane life of the ground world, contacted the worlds best mechanists, scientists and engineers to propose a solution.

Together, the world leaders and cleverest of minds formulated a plan to leave the ground world behind and it’s people to suffer. The rich and noble poured donations and ideas into a city in the sky. Over the course of ten years, this dream was realized and they named it “Utopia,”

The city, created from engines and steam and the best and most brilliant minds of the era, was nicknamed “The city in the sky,” by the ground people, who were left to starve and fight as the rich left them to their devastated world. Full of rage, they plotted to overthrow the rich before they left, resulting in mass slaughter and bloodshed greater than any before in history, spanning across all of Europe.

But their plan succeeded and they boarded their ships to their city in the sky.

A decade later, a quiet revolution is bubbling once again in their city of clouds. Unrest is formulating in the underground of Utopia, the people who run the black markets, the stowaways and the people who wish for change are formulating plans to save those on the ground or set the city ablaze trying.

Lead by an _almost_ fearless leader who is fueled by sadness and desire for change, a man who makes a living off of illegal scientific knowledge and a prince who simply wants to watch the world burn, the revolution is coming faster and faster.

Will they succeed?

Or will everything they've worked for be burned to the ground?


	2. The Timekeeper + The Automaton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The biggest ship in Utopia doesn't often get stowaways, and Logan is usually very good at making sure nobody hides on his ship; but stealth seems to be Virgil's strong suit.

A pocket watch swings from careful fingers into a warming breeze, as the captain it belongs to leans against the side of the ship, his one working blue eye surveying the night’s sky. “There’s going to be a storm tonight,” he speaks nonchalantly “...keep your wits about you,” The crew nod with various replies of ‘yes sir,' but for the most part, he only half cares about their responses.

He looks at the watch, counts the seconds, and then back at the clock embedded into the ship. “Three hours, thirty-two minutes and twenty-nine seconds,” He pockets the watch and heads towards the stairs, his thick leather boots padding on the steel deck. He could hear one of the ship’s crewmen whistling as the door closed behind him, as well as a rush of steam and the clink of metal and glass, all in a day's work, nothing out of the ordinary.

The brunet pulls his goggles off his eyes and wipes the train tracks of rainwater from his pale face, looking around the room. He glances out the window to the setting sun and dark clouds, grabbing the bottle of rum from the tabletop and taking a swig. “I am many things but not an idiot,” He speaks clearly to a seemingly vacant room “...and I am missing an eye, but I’m not quite blind,” He hears a creaking and the corner of his lips tilt into a smirk, turning towards the closed wooden door, in three quick strides he crosses the room and opens it, arms folded. “I’d offer you a drink but I fear you’d rust,”

Two pairs of dark eyes blink up at him, the synthetic skin peeling to reveal the whirs and cogs of a machine. But the captain knew better, this was no machine, not wholly anyway. “What can I do for you, automaton?” 

“Please, just let me go, I want to go,” 

The captain shakes his head and turns, placing the bottle of rum on the cabinet “And _why_ would I do that?” He leans against the door with faux patience before he grabs the automaton rather roughly by his shirt and hauls him to his feet “Do you think they will appreciate you more down there? Do you think they will hold any kindness for you, automaton? I’ll tell you what they’ll do to you, they’ll take you apart for scrap,”

“Captain Sandelin, sir, please, let go,” He lets go, the automaton falls back.

“I know exactly who you are,” The captain scowls firmly “Even if I could let you run off out there to the ground world, I would not, because despite my reputation I don’t enjoy leading people to their deaths,” He slides a box from his pocket, taking a cigar out and placing it in his mouth. “Maybe once you see the ground world, you won’t be so keen to run into its arms,” with a flick of his wrist and the match against a matchbox, he lights the cigar, smoke pouring from his mouth and nose, illuminated by the sun so close to being set for the night. “Now, _Virgil,_ maybe you should make yourself useful before I contemplate throwing you over the side,”

The automaton, deflated, wishes he could cry as he pulls up his hood and follows the demanding captain to the deck. “Yes sir,”

“Captain, sir, will we have time for the storm? When’s it to be due?” The captain looks up at the sky.

“Three hours, seventeen minutes, twelve seconds,” The raindrops scattered to the ground, the captain looks over at Virgil “Will you rust?” he asks, mostly out of teasing cruelty, but also because he's no mechanist, engineer perhaps but the idea of putting together a person out of cogs and wires doesn't sit right to him. The ship's captain does not even know, personally, who in their right mind would sit down with a box full of spare parts and mould it into the shape of a human being for the sake of creating slaves. Men who play God more often than not end up in rougher fires than that of Hell. The automaton begins to speak.

“No sir, I have a plastic covering over the…”

“Good, now do as I say exactly, and if you leave my sight you will have far worse issues than me to deal with,” The mechanical man nods, avoiding the sneering looks the crew were giving. “Play nice, you are men not little boys,” The captain scowls, he glances at the clock. “Three hours, sixteen minutes and thirty-two seconds, now **_move,_**”

Virgil doesn’t question how he knows the storms exact arrival time as he sets about the orders being barked firmly at the crew.

One simply does not question the Timekeeper, let alone his crew. Everyone knows what happened to the last guy that picked a fight with this man, and it wasn't exactly pretty (unlike, of course, the captain himself, who is an extremely dangerous cocktail of beautiful and having an infamously short temper). For the most part, Logan Sandelin is a whole lot of dangerous and very little heart, or at least that is what the rumours have to say about him; within five minutes of knowing the captain Virgil would describe him as crude and sharp, but not exactly someone without emotion as the whispers between the taverns would suggest.

Virgil follows his orders as best as he can and spends the rest of the journey avoiding the heated glares being sent his way. People tend to treat him with as much kindness as one might to a very small bug that's been buzzing around your room for an extended period of time. Actually, it's entirely possible that people treat bugs kinder than they treat Virgil and every time he catches his reflection he can't say he blames them, he's unnerving to look at, a man but a machine and rotting away more every day with no one to take care of him.

Still, he got so far, he's going to have to keep going whether he likes it or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Logan’s surname “Sandelin,” is a Dutch family name (And Swedish? I don't know how this works), Logan’s nationality in this fic is Dutch because it’s something I’ve written before and technically only Europe was invited to Utopia. This name is a pet form of “Sander,” which is derived from Alexander. Unfortunately, due to the nature of Utopia, a lot of heritage is being lost, and although Logan can technically speak Dutch in this fic, it’s rare for anyone but royals to preserve their native language and culture, as they all merge to one slowly.


	3. The Dreamweaver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy can do anything with the right price and amount of attitude.

The metal of chains clinks in rhythm to the sound of steel-toed boots hitting a wooden ground. Dark eyes watch behind filtered lenses, fingertips drumming a pattern onto leather-clad thighs, surveying, waiting. The air seems so still it is _static_, yet that could possibly be the whirring of machines through a heavily locked door. The man leans against the desk, dark hair wild and stark against pale skin. Then the door creaks open after three short knocks and the man pulls a cigarette from his lips to smile passively as he watches the newcomer enter. "Dreamweaver," The stranger's face is obscured by a heavy hood and a mask, but his voice sounds soft...young, almost as though he'd barely become a man. "I'm told you are the person to come too for the impossible," 

Remy's smile becomes a grin as he leans his hands on the wooden desk, his eyes making quick commentary on the other's dress before he nods. "That depends on the job, and whether you can afford the price," the scientist's eyebrows raise as he speaks, leaning back only to sip at his Irish coffee, before he places the warm cup back down again, waiting, watching the way the stranger shifts uncomfortably. "May I see your face before I go offering my services? It feels just a little unfair that you get to know my identity and I don't get the same pleasure for my customer," The man sighs a little and removes the mask from his face, before tugging the hood down.

The Dreamweaver stares, exhaling shallowly before taking a long gulp out of his coffee with a tilt of his head "Very well, step into my office," He places the cup back down and presses numbers into a panel on the wall, the heavy metal door behind him slides open and the two men step inside, leaving only the sounds of the floating city in their absence.

–

Remy Sanford is a man of many talents; a genius by all accounts, a man that is good at handling chemicals, a miracle worker to many. His one most basic flaw is that he can never quite say no to a challenge, no matter what the cost may be; he's stubborn and curious to a fault. 

He's still mulling over the day's work as he slides a glass over the thick welding goggles on his face, watching carefully as sparks shoot from one of the glass beakers in his possession. The sudden spark and the noise it makes causes his current companion to jump, just a little, and Remy to snort lightly.

When the man had entered his domain and told him what he wanted, the Dreamweaver had stared blankly for a few moments, told him to leave and that he would do his best, and then began to work; he hadn't stopped since. He gets visitors every now and then, the most predominant being the man currently occupying space as far away from his work station as humanly possible.

“You’re so jumpy, Pat,” The dark-eyed man snorts lightly, watching the liquid turn purple with a resigned sigh “I’m going to be at this a while,” He leans back against the wall, sliding off his black gloves and grabbing the packet of cigarettes on the counter, sparking up and moving around the station, watching the liquid simmer.

“So what did he want exactly? You just keep telling me it’s difficult,” Remy inhales as his companion speaks, leaning his weight onto his hip before exhaling with a stressed expression.

“When he walked in, he was wearing a mask, I _assumed_ it’s because people don’t go down to the market without some form of way to conceal their identity,” The younger scratches his forehead, biting down on his lip for a second “He wasn’t human,” Patton's eyebrows shot up, leaning up with interest written all over his face. "The automaton," Remy mutters through exhaled smoke "I could've gone my entire life without that sort of trouble knocking at my door, but you know me," He shrugs with a weak laugh, sliding his goggles up into his hair. "He wanted me to make him…human,”

“That’s impossible Remy,” The younger nods, inhaling the cigarette again “But you said yes?” He looks over to the station, which is looking surprisingly calmer than usual. “Love potions, emotions, that’s one thing but you can’t make someone human, you’re either born that way or you aren’t,”

“I didn’t take you as an autophobe,” Remy jokes as lightly as he could, but his companion can see the strain in his expression as he pushes his goggles up onto his head again as they slide a little down his forehead. “I said yes, sort of, I told him I can make him look human, which is technically not untrue, if I can make people's emotions for them I’m sure I can manage something this simple,” They sit in silence for a moment, watching the liquid change colour under the heat, cigarette smoke clouds the room “I mostly felt bad for the poor bastard, he looks like a train wreck and not just because his face is smashed to shit,"

“It must be lonely,” Is the quiet response he gets “So what was the price?” Remy went quiet, looking down at his hand “Rem?” The elder’s eyebrows furrow as the man looks towards the door “You didn’t give him a price?” The younger sighs, smoke pouring from his lips as he does, reaching out he put out the cigarette into a glass of water.

“Think about it, he’s an automaton, if something goes wrong we can just stitch him up again, right? He’s made of metal and currents, cogs and circuitry, he’s basically as indispensable as you get, with training he could be a good fighter,”

“Remy you know we can’t just bribe and blackmail people into this,” the other man speaks firmly, his tone becoming more commanding, it's the sort of tone that rarely gets used on his closest friend and confidant, and everytime it always makes Remy feel like he's being told off by his father. "It needs to be people who care, otherwise we end up with holes in the system, and people who are more than likely to turn on us for the right price." 

“Do you think he doesn’t care? Have you seen that automaton? He’s so desperate for people to leave him alone the poor bastard wants a new face,” Patton goes quiet “There’s nothing about him that doesn’t scream suitable for this, Patton,” The elder straightens up, a stern look on his face as Remy goes quiet. They may be friends, but first and foremost it’s Patton who is the leader, the one in charge and what he says _goes._

“Remy Sanford, if that boy does not want to join you find him a different price, had it once occurred to you that perhaps he’d gone to you because he wants to stay away from trouble? Not walk into more of it?” The scientist looks down at his feet, head bowed respectfully as he shakes his head. “You can’t just drag people into this headfirst,” Patton rests his hand on the other’s shoulder and squeezes it “I have some matters to see too, good luck with this,”

The Dreamweaver sighs as he pulls his goggles over his eyes, with a flick of a lighter, he was back to work again.


	4. The Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman has a taste for trouble, it's what keeps him going. All the riches in the world can't buy an adrenaline rush.

Tap, tap, tap. The sound of bored feet against iron sounds across the empty hall, brown eyes staring at anything that can capture his attention for just a few seconds; waiting for the sound of doors closing so that he knows he's safe to make a break for it without getting cuaght. Finally, the sound of a heavy door closing and the man grins, pulling up the hood of his dark red cloak as he wanders out of the room and down the hallway, glancing left and right. He gives a quiet smirk as he realized he is completely alone and wanders out of the doors and into the streets. Freedom, _at last._

Prince Roman is hardly an inconspicuous figure, but nobody wants to tackle the job of keeping track of where he is anymore. The elusive prince hates being bored more than anything and with life being a series of adventures one after the other that simply cannot be missed, he is everywhere _always_. Interestingly, this was how he’d met Patton, running away from his parents for the day.

He’d at first thought the man to be naive with his fluttering eyelashes and bright smile, but as he’d grown more attached he realized that Patton was much more a master of disguise than he first appeared. Once he’d seen through Patton and met “The Heart” he’d known he’d finally, finally found something interesting in this god-forsaken city of riches.

Now, make no mistake, initially Roman could not care less here or there about the people on the ground-world, he couldn’t care less about the rich nor the poor, he’s simply a man who likes to cause trouble. And this? this was the biggest trouble he’d ever seen in his life. Over time however, the way Patton talked like there was nothing worth living if that life was only for a select few of people, he found the cause started to grow on him a little too; Remy, however, would not. The two are like cat and dog, or brothers that can't quite figure out how to find a common ground. 

“Remy,” He greets the scientist as he slides through the back door “How are you this fine evening, _mi amigo?”_ The man scowls at the intrusion, putting down his tools and sliding his goggles up, arms folded as he squints passive aggressively at the other man.

“_Perfect_ until I saw your face,” He retorts, hands on his hips. “You are made to draw attention to yourself Roman, you can’t just keep wandering in here,” Roman waves a dismissive hand at that and lights a cigar, leaning back against the wall, it's a nice life for some to be able to just smoke cigars whenever you feel like it. It's not that Remy is poor, quite the opposite, he's the son of a long line of meaningless riches, he'd just found life more interesting than lying around, his job pays extremely well (I mean, how much do you sell emotions for? Can you put a price on it?) but he also tends to spend a lot to keep his job going, this stuff he manufactures isn't cheap to make. “If the next words out of your mouth are ‘I’m bored,’ I will physically unleash a deadly disease on you,”

“I’m rather sure you would Remy, and yet, I am _still_ bored so call it testing fate, I do find death to be a rather great adventure,” Remy shakes his head in exasperation and pulls his goggles over his eyes, just before the door opens again. The scientist hisses.

“Can I not catch a break today?” He mutters harshly and the newcomer chuckles, despite the goggles and hood, Roman would recognize Patton anywhere. Immediately he straightens up, a charming smile plastered on his lips. “Nope, you two, _out,_ if you’re going to flirt I want you out of here, it’s distracting,” He waves a dismissive hand "If I _wanted_ romance in my life I'd go and find romance, instead of having you two here to throttle me with it," He is promptly ignored as he generally is when he's complaining.

Patton shakes his head with a fond smile “How are you getting along with your new pet project Remy?” Roman looks over, he wouldn’t approach Remy’s workstation despite his previous acknowledgement of a death wish, because burning alive from some form of mysterious acid was not the way he wants to go. “Have you seen him again since?”

“Mhm,” The scientist sighs “I’d work faster if people didn’t keep wandering in here,” He looks up at the prince and even though Roman can’t see through the goggles he knows he’s being glared at. “But I think I have the basic consistency right, now I just have to make it feel more like skin and then there’s the pigment which might make it difficult because I’m running out of supplies,”

“What is it you’re doing?” Roman asks, his curiosity may one day very well be the death of him. Patton nods to Remy as he looks up for some form of confirmation that he can continue.

“You know the…automaton, the synth?”

“Virgil his name is, yes?” Remy nods, of _course_ everyone knows Virgil, it’s hard not to know about the first automaton that somehow gained human consciousness "I know of him, I can't say I've ever met him in person, you'd think someone like that would be easier to find," No one wants to talk to Roman about the art of not wanting to be found because he wouldn't actually understand. Roman is pretty, he's well-liked; long brown hair and tan skin, with more piercings made of gold than Remy has had hot dinners. He could not fathom being so hated that he has to hide.

“He came to me,” Roman’s eyebrows shot up, a look on his face that read ‘is that really territory you want to approach?’ but then again, much like Roman, Remy will do almost anything to prevent himself from being bored, the difference being the scientist actually had a gift that wasn’t just his parents and their money. “He asked me if I could make him human, I said even that is more than impossible for me, but I can make him look human,” Roman hums thoughtfully.

“Interesting,” He said blankly, appearing deep in thought “Why?” The dark-haired man quirks an eyebrow “I mean, why did he come to you, why does he want to look Human, and why did you say yes?” So many questions, so many 'why's' that a normal person wouldn't have to ask. Again, Roman can't really understand what it feels like to be disliked, especially not by himself, nor does he really understand the concept of pity.

Remy laughs, shortly and shakes his head. “Have you seen the way people treat him, he has people threatening to pull him to pieces every other day,” Roman shrugs, he hadn’t cared to notice, that and he’d never met the automaton in real life, only heard the stories of a man that is made of machine parts. “...And I said yes because I like a challenge,”

Roman laughs “You can pull the other one, Remy, what are you getting out of this?” 

Patton interjects before Remy can: “He’s trying to get him to join us, but I’ve told him he can think of another damn price,” Roman nods, that sounds a little more like Remy (not that Remy does not love a challenge, he thrives off of such quests, but he loves payment more). “You can’t force people into this,”

“You have to be brave, stupid or desperate to join this,” Roman comments absently “He’s at least two of those,” Patton shoots him a look that demanded his silence and Roman holds a hand up defensively “I’m just saying he’d be a good asset, you can just put him back together if he gets shot, practically invincible,”

“That’s what I said.”

“Enough, both of you, no means _no_, you can’t bribe someone into this life, it’s not right,” Roman takes a deep inhale thoughtfully. Whilst Remy might feel the need to submit to Patton’s will, the prince rarely knelt to anyone. Patton was, unfortunately, no different.

“Patton you’ve done a lot of things for this cause, now you want to worry about what’s right?” The other man whips around so fast that his hood falls down and there was that little spark behind his eyes as he pushes his goggles up and glares straight through Roman’s gaze like he’s made of bullets. The prince will never quite admit that he loves that look, he loves seeing Patton angry, fierce and assertive, and it’s why he smirks lightly.

Somewhere, Remy sighs “Can you two argue about it somewhere where I’m not trying to work, God damn it,” They both look over at Remy and give a small nod, their respective looks faltering to something calmer and neutral. “I’ll give him that offer and if he says no I’ll give him another choice, it’s not the end of the world, just do your job, Roman,”

The prince nods curtly and brushes past Patton, pushing open the door. Briefly, their gazes linger on each others. “I'll see you later,” He mutters before the door slides shut behind him.

Patton sighs as the door closes behind the younger man firmly. Remy glances up at him with a raised eyebrow, “So when are you going to stop pretending he’s not, quite literally, the prince of your dreams?” He teases his oldest friend as he picks up his tools and continues his work. “You look at him like you’re in love, yet also like you hate him simultaneously,” The elder chuckles and shakes his head at the scientist as he works, grabbing the pack of cigars off the top and sliding down the wall to sit on the floor.

“I don’t have time for things like that Remy,” He lights it and watches the smoke leak from the tip with interest. “I have a revolution to build,”

The younger pauses his work, staring down at his hands for a moment before he sets the tools aside, leaning against the bench on his hands. “Patton, I’ve known you since we were children, and I’d known then that I would gladly and blindly follow your lead whatever you do, you’re my best friend,” He pauses a moment “Some things I can’t help you with, you know I have a certain…predisposition when it comes to romance and other things that might entail, so I can’t be some sort of beacon of encouragement and hopefulness there, but if you think you can’t fall in love and lead a revolution then you’re wrong because if anyone can do that it’s you, you didn’t get the name ‘the heart’ for your unabashed coldness,”

Patton smiles, but it contains more sadness than anything “Remy, it’s already quite hard worrying about your safety, if I had two people to lose it would be even harder,” Remy nods, sighing as he returns to his work.

“Okay, Patton,” He picks up his tools “If that’s your judgment, then I trust it,” He would after all, blindly trust his best friend, he’s never been wrong before.


	5. Masking the Gears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moment of truth on Virgil's part

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: non-sexual nudity, violence, mentioned violence/murder

Virgil sat cross-legged and nervous as Remy studied him, “Are you okay?” The scientist asks carefully, noticing the jitters. The nod he receives is hardly confident, but Remy will take it. “Okay, this is going to take a long time and whilst I’ve gotten most of it right, replicating human skin and muscle it’s…it’s not exactly something I’ve done before, so, I can’t guarantee this will be perfect,”

Virgil nods again, quiet.

“Right, now I guess, take off your clothes, and let’s get down to business,”

The process takes hours, hours upon hours as Remy’s skilled hands work, he starts with the face, taking apart the plastic covering and trying not to be unnerved as the automaton stared up at him, unable to do anything. The face is the easy part, he connects the wiring where it needs to be so that Virgil’s jaw works fine, and then the skin layered over the rubbery muscles.

It takes even longer to sort out Virgil’s ‘nerves’ But once they’re connected, he can hear the other letting out small noises of discomfort, but at least now he has eyelids to screw closed. “Well at least we know they work,” Remy grins as the other grimaces in response. “Honestly this might be my best work yet, I’m quite proud of this,” Virgil grumbles something along the lines of ‘thanks’. He sounds mostly like he's in some form of sensory hell and Remy doesn't quite blame the disgruntled reaction, he couldn't imagine having sensory receptors for the first time in his life, feeling for the first time and reliving what is essentially a birth. Dear Lord, does that make him a father? Do automatons _have_ parents? He shakes his head and tries not to think too deeply right now.

The more sensitive areas evoke some interesting responses, and Remy, being the scientist he is, can’t help but study the little noises-from interest, to curiosity, to pain. He sort of feels bad, watching someone go through the stages of pain reception and, not being a particularly comforting person, not knowing what to do.

By the time he’s finished, they both look exhausted.

“Well you certainly look more human, your nerves are working, now remember, you don’t have a working stomach so avoid eating or drinking because I have no idea what that will do to you,” Remy dusts off his hands and grabs his pack of cigars, lighting one in a swift movement, “I’ve got to say, I didn’t think I’d pull it off,” The man who blinks back through dark brown eyes was the half-machine that had walked in, but not quite. Virgil stared down at himself before he stands up, he can feel the cold on his feet, on his body. “Oh that’s another thing, now that you can feel the cold, you’ll want to dress for it, I don’t really understand how your system regulates its temperature, but I do understand that you don’t have the natural protection we have, I wasn’t going to create hundreds of synthetic hairs, in a few years you’ll probably need a touch-up, but Utopia doesn’t exactly have harsh elements so as far as wear and tear goes you should be perfectly fine, just thank whoever created you for giving you a somewhat authentic voice box,”

Virgil thanks him quietly as he re-dresses, wincing as the clothes touch his skin. “So…what’s your price?” He asks cautiously, his eyes looking down at the floor nervously.

Remy leans against his desk, inhaling the cigar thoughtfully. When he exhales, he studies Virgil for a moment, he looked human, with nerves that can receive pain, and a conscious brain that could think. Before he can answer, however, there’s a knock at his door. The two stand up a little straighter and Remy pulls his goggles over his eyes before he approaches the door, peering through the peephole. Sighing with relief, he pushes the goggles back up to his head and opens it “Patton, right on time,”

Virgil stares at the newcomer, who’s wearing a dark blue shirt and matching waistcoat. Around his waist is what looks like a belt with a gun holster, a jacket dangling from his fingers over his shoulder. Over his left breast is a little clockwork pin in the shape of a heart. The automaton stiffens, he’s seen that symbol somewhere before but he can’t recall where. Patton grins “Is that…?” Remy nods “Holy…you’ve done a splendid job,” He approaches Virgil, who flinches visibly. “Gosh, sorry I didn’t mean to startle you!” This man seemed _too_ nice, eyes and smile bright, cheeks flushed and much happiness in his voice. “Sorry, I’m a friend of Remy’s do you mind if I…” Virgil shakes his head slowly as Patton’s hand comes up to touch his cheek gently. “It feels so real,”

“So does that,” Virgil mutters, gently pushing Patton’s hand away “Sorry, I’m still getting used too…it’s sort of uncomfortable,”

“Of course,” The elder man steps back, studying Virgil before he walks over to the scientist, muttering quietly between the two of them. “So, Virgil, what do you know about the rebellion? I assume something after all,” then it clicked, the badge on the other’s t-shirt, his jaw clenched as he stares at the two men in front of him. The Heart. _The Heart._ 'The Heart of the Rebellion' as people discuss him in casual conversation.

The automaton had lived on the streets long enough to know the man in front of him was not the sunshine and roses he was displaying. He'd heard many whispers between people, conversations, of exactly what this man was capable of; and maybe some of that is an exaggeration, certainly looking at Patton he doesn't seem cold or ruthless, nor the big bad guy he'd thought of him as in the very few occasions he thought of him at all. Virgil had never quite dreamed of meeting him, however, and he’d never wanted too. He'd heard enough stories to know when interacting with someone like this man, in particular, is asking for bad luck. Except he’s stood in front of Virgil with arms folded and eyebrows raised as a look of what the synthetic man assumes is realization crosses his own face. “So you know who I am then?” He hadn’t expected him to be like this, with a northern British accent and a smile so wide it was almost happy. 

_Almost._

“I do,” He whispers, wondering if the panic he’s feeling is mirrored on his own face. “I know who you are, and I know the things you’ve done,” Remy scratches the back of his head awkwardly as he looks between the two, deciding to busy himself by sorting out the paperwork on his desk, all his notes from everything he’s done.

"I haven’t done anything to anyone who hasn’t deserved it,” He studies Virgil for a second “Sometimes hard decisions have to be made, for the sake of people who are having decisions made for them, that is _killing_ them, people like you Virgil, people like me, and people who are living on the ground world, starving and rotting whilst people up here take everything from them,”

Virgil remembers being on the Timekeeper’s ship then, he remembers seeing the face of malnourished children, caked in filth, he remembers the captain leaning against the side of his ship with pity in his eyes. He remembers him muttering something that sounded like “Poor bastards,” He remembers the captain looking around to check no-one was looking when he bent down to hand something to a young child. Virgil had looked away, not wanting to be caught and reprimanded, helping load the cargo onto the ship.

He nods, remembering how pained mothers looked as young children starved on their streets. Whilst people up here ate so much that they made themselves sick to eat more. Suddenly, the few dead bodies that this man leaves behind seem a little bit more justified, despite the feeling that people dying could not ever be right.

“Are you asking me to join you?” Patton’s lip quirks at this and he nods “But I’m not a fighter, I can barely look after myself,”

“If it’s not suitable then you won’t be forced, I cannot force you to join us, but I do ask that you think about it, for the sake of the greater good, we could really use someone who is…”

“Half machine?” Virgil finishes, an edge to his voice.

“Brave,” Patton finishes “...you risked a lot to come here, to change almost everything about yourself, everything you knew, and someone tells me you snuck on the Timekeeper’s ship and somehow got back with all your limbs attached,” Virgil blanches “I have eyes and ears everywhere,”

“You…know him?” Patton shakes his head.

“Men that cruel are not ones I want to know,” _Cruel?_ Virgil had thought the captain to be a little disconnected at best, but cruel was not one of them.

“He’s not cruel at all,” Virgil mutters quietly, the eldest glances over at Remy, who looks up from his paperwork. “He’s actually quite considerate, I mean, I had thought him to be cruel and I feared him when I first encountered him, but he offered me protection when he didn’t need too, from his crew and from the people on the ground world too, and I also think he’s been giving things to people down there to help them,” Patton straightens up, gesturing for Virgil to continue “I was stowed away in his cupboard, and I noticed things that aren’t really necessary for a one-night trip; it's just down and up again, but there were entire boxes of medication, clothes, food and drink, and I saw him giving something to one of the children down there, I think he’s been smuggling necessities too them to help them live,”

Patton bites his bottom lip, deep in thought, seemingly momentarily distracted by the information he had just been handed; Remy leans forward a little, his lip quirking. “I guess we know now what job would be suited for you,” The scientist chuckles “Intel,” Virgil shakes his head slowly, his hands coming up almost defensively, and he knows he must look a little out of his depth, he feels like he's out of his depth too. 

“I was just in the right place at the right time I…”

“Notice things that other people generally don’t pay that much attention too when they run away from home,” Patton finishes with a grin. “You’re right Remy, he’d be perfect for that, especially now that he looks a little more…inconspicuous,” The brunet leans back, trying to adjust to everything that appears to be happening at once. "I'm fairly certain you've learned how to fit in even when you weren't able too, blending into the background and things like that, gathering information would be perfect for you and it's less practical in terms of things like combat and paperwork." Virgil isn't entirely sure what's happening, but the more Patton talks the more he isn't entirely sure he's getting a say in this as much as they seem to think he is. “Will you join us? The offer to say no is still there, Remy is more than happy to come up with another way of payment,”

Virgil hesitates, and looks over at the door, thinking of how cold the streets are and how much he can feel right now. He needs somewhere warm and safe and…a purpose that isn’t just running away. Besides, ever since he's gotten back onto Utopia all he can think about are those bodies lying in the mud, children who were rotting beofre they'd even died, everyone looking so...sick. He looks back at the two and nods slowly.

“Okay, yes...I will."


	6. The incentive to be brave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil wonders if the nerves thing were necessary as Roman teaches him how to point and shoot.

Roman is many things, brash and loud and arrogant; and, as Virgil learns within four minutes of meeting him, _very_ into men. Taking no mind that the automaton is in fact made of metal and gears Roman flirts to his heart’s content whilst Remy stifles a giggle in the corner, nursing his glass of bourbon. The automaton doesn’t quite yet know how to react to kindness, let alone one of a romantic nature, but as soon as he catches Patton’s rather downcast look at Roman’s administrations he feels like he’s intruding on something out of his depth. “Keep it in your pants Princey,” Remy finally calls it quits, resting his glass on the countertop. “He’s only just got his body, let's not go defiling it,” Virgil thinks if he could blush, he would right now.

“Yes, anyway, business,” Roman sighs and pushes his briefcase on the countertop, narrowly missing Remy’s drink “This is for you, _mi amigo,_” He pushes the clasps open and lifts the lid. Virgil’s eyes widen.

“Is that a…gun?” Roman laughs lightly at his shock, a musical sound that has even Remy’s lips quirking into a smile. It is indeed a gun, a silver six-shooter with brass engravings, delicately polished and extremely beautiful, aesthetically speaking, little leaves were engraved along the barrel so intrinsically. “Is that for…me?”

“Indeed it is,” Roman mutters something else under his breath in Spanish and Virgil doesn’t understand, but Patton nudges him with a look between amusement and sternness.

“Stop flirting with him and show him how to use it,” Roman nods, closing the briefcase and offering his arm in a gentlemanly style. Remy rolls his eyes in response to the flamboyant man’s extravagancies. The guy would fuck _anything_ if it smiled enough for him, and he's clearly he's not eager to shun his reputation when it comes to men and his bedroom. Remy almost pities Patton for managing to fall for the one guy who doesn't exactly have a staple for being loyal, but he also kind of thinks he fell into this himself and much like most things in Patton's life, was a little bit of bad judgment on his part. Even if it is clear to see Roman is hopelessly in love with the elder and is just extremely bad at showing it (It's Remy's job to_ know_ and _understand_ emotions, to recognize them, it's Patton's job to point and _shoot)._

“Right this way, Virgil,”

–

The automaton stares at the wooden panels, crudely cut and painted to somewhat resemble a human being. “You’re lucky I’m in no shortage of bullets,” The prince chuckles, as Virgil squints at the panels from a distance, staring at the weapon in his hand. It’s hard to concentrate as Roman stands so close behind him, his hand on Virgil’s arm. “Stand like this,” The hands trail up the automaton’s arms to rest on his shoulder, positioning the man.

He was regretting having nerves, still unaccustomed to feeling touch.

Even more so when Roman’s front is pressed against his back, his arms taking Virgil’s to position them, “Eyes forward,” he does as he's told, but his gaze would flicker to where Roman’s hands are pressed against his own. Is human touch supposed to burn? “Concentrate on where you want to fire, then pull the trigger."

Virgil fires. It goes straight through the forehead of the wooden plank. He feels Roman’s grin as the man shows him how to work the weapon, firing again. He feels like flames are searing through his makeshift veins; there is something euphoric about firing a gun, or maybe it’s just the entire body pressed up against him currently.

And, from what he’s learned about the Spanish prince, this is probably not an accident. “You’re a natural, Virgil,” The gun lowers and Virgil looks down at his feet, trying not to think about the warm breath on his cheek. He’d always known this man would be a flirt from the moment he first heard of the prince, he hadn’t known that he was a flirt for men in particular, and he certainly never_ dreamed_ of being on the receiving end.

Roman takes the weapon from his hands and rests it in the briefcase, turning to smile at the automaton; a wide, mischievous smile that has Virgil stepping back for a second with unsureness. This prince is _certainly_ trouble. “I’ve got to admit, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it seems Remy really did work his magic,” His hand comes up to Virgil’s cheek, it felt like electricity where he touched. “You look like wonder itself,” 

If Virgil had a heart that could skip a beat, it would’ve, such an intense look burning in the prince’s eyes with a smile that looked like a predator hunting prey. Virgil steps away from the touch with the look of a startled animal on his face. Roman’s hand drops to his side and the smile becomes softer “I really should take Remy more seriously, sometimes I forget there’s more of a person than my ability to be attracted to him.”

The automaton doesn’t know how to respond, so he just nods slowly. Roman clicks the briefcase shut and hands it to Virgil “This is yours now, take care of her,” And with a squeeze of his shoulder, the prince is gone.


	7. The Burned Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most people who mess with the Timekeeper don't get a second chance, but Patton has a habit of handing those out.

“If you stare any harder, _mi amor,_ your eyes will fall out of your head,” Roman chuckles, biting into an apple as he leans against the metal post. Patton scowls for a moment “Why is he so interesting to you?” As if he needs to ask, Patton is drawn to the strange and lonely like a moth to a flame, it’s perhaps why he couldn’t leave Roman alone.

“Look at him,” Roman sighs and does as he’s told, following the line of sight to the man. He was lifting wooden boxes onto a stall, his forearm trailing with burn scars that disappear under his shirt and reappears along his neck and around the side of his face. It’s not a pretty picture, but Patton surely seems to think so. But then, Patton wouldn’t be Patton without seeing the beauty in things that most would otherwise find grotesque. Well, Roman has to agree here, he doesn’t find the man as terrifying as the women skirting around him or the men throwing him dirty looks, he actually thinks he's sort of attractive in a rugged sort of way.

“This is still dangerous ground to tread, as much as I admire our band of misfits thriving in a society that would otherwise kill us, do you really want to invite him in?” Everyone knows how this man got like this “Is it really worth it? You know what he’s done,” Patton sighs.

“Everyone makes mistakes,” He mutters.

“Mistakes don’t generally involve lies and betrayal, and the death of someone who was very dear to one of the most powerful men in Utopia, that was a plan, and he got his due, now he’s being punished for it."

“People _change_ Roman."

“Patton is this really worth having_ Logan Sandelin_ on your tail?” Patton looks away and sighs, scratching the back of his head thoughtfully

"Actually, I'm sort of hoping to get there before he finds out." The words come out so fast, so clipped, and Roman has to take a step back to stare incredulously at his friend; he opens his mouth before he bites back his temper and takes a deep breath.

“Whatever Virgil said Patton…he doesn’t get a reputation like permanently disfiguring someone for nothing, and you can’t get two sides to play nicely." Roman's eyes are displaying worry first and foremost, but the rest of his face is asking Patton if he's fucking insane. "You can't pick up one and then the other...they'll rip you apart in their own little feud, it's a miracle he's still alive," he gestures towards the man with the burn scars that they'd been tailing. "It's only a matter of time before Sandelin finishes him off, or the other way around, please think about what you're trying to do here, it's a suicide mission."

“I don’t want them to play nicely,” Roman’s eyebrows furrow as he looks over at the burned man and then back at his leader. “Or at least I don't_ need_ them too, honestly they can cat and dog it all they want but they both have their talents, and both of them would be valuable," Roman stares at him, it's not the first time he's given his friend such a look but this time there's a genuine fear in his eyes. He sighs in exasperation because at the end of the day Patton _is_ the boss and what he says goes no matter how stupid or reckless that decision may be, it's only Roman's job to do as he's told even if that's a job he sucks at to an endless extent.

“I give up, tell Remy your plan and he will talk some goddamn sense into you.” It’s the first time Patton has seen the other genuinely lose his temper around him. He turns on his heel and walks away, Patton watches him for a moment and then looks back to the man, only to find he had moved. He stands up a little straighter and looks around until he finds a knife pressed against his throat and a hand around his chest.

“Why are you following me?” A low snarl echoes in his ear. Patton swallows but keeps his calm.

“I need your help,” Silence, and the knifes grip lessens, clearly taken by surprise. “I know what you've done and I know what you can do, those are the sort of talents that I need," Patton's fingertips ease the knife strapped and hidden under his sleeve down to his palm, just in case but the attacker draws back, and Patton turns around, watching those dark gold eyes scan over him. The eyes catch the mechanical pin over his waistcoat and the burned man shakes his head.

"Shit," he muttered, looking from the pin to Patton's face, relating the two objects like they're pieces of a puzzle. His expression goes from confused to a sort of defeated expression "I just held a knife to your neck and you know about fifty different ways to kill a man." 

“I _won’t_ kill you however,”

“So, what does the heart need with a man like me?”

“Well, first of all, your real name,”

The scarred man grins.

–

When Patton wanders in with Janus in tow, Remy drops his tools with a clatter to the floor. “Another one?” He mutters “Are you collecting people who need new skin or what?” Janus bristles slightly, taking offence. “At ease soldier, I’m joking,” he offers the other a cigarette and lights his own, abandoning his work to lean against the wall and study the newcomer “Well he’s strong, he’s got a history with combat and he doesn’t fit in very well so I suppose he checks most of the boxes,” Smoke pours over his lips as he pushes his goggles up to his head.

Some people say when they first meet the Dreamweaver, they never really know what to make of him; calm yet excitable, collected yet eclectic, multiple, sporadic. Janus, at least, thinks those eyes have seen a lot, they're very tired but equally bright. He's known the name before, or at least the pseudonym; for some reason he didn't imagine this man to be part of an underground rebellion, but standing in his workspace it seems to make a lot of sense. Remy is a little bit of an oddity, he notes to himself silently, his mind must be fascinating to do half the things he does. 

“Is it a good idea?” Patton asks and Remy’s eyebrows raised, he never gets asked something like this and he gestures mutely with his hand, his expression reading as though he’s conflicted.

“The more people the better,” Remy starts carefully. “But this is definitely going to capture Sandelin's attention so if you’re wanting his help you’re going to have to ask fast, I’ve been talking to Virgil and trying to get as much information as he could remember out of him, but it seems like our beloved captain has been doing some revolting of his own, I've put Virgil on a watch for him, now that he fits in a little better and the captain won't recognise him...he's kind of a natural." 

“Good, thank Virgil for me, can you fill Janus in on everything that’s gone on so far? I need to find Roman, he stormed off earlier.” Remy nods and gestures to the man with scars over his face.

“Welcome to my humble abode, I’ll pour you a drink,” Janus smiles little, as Remy gives a grin that reminds one of the cheshire cat.

–

Walking through Roman's home, which is almost basically a mansion, is always a feeling that comes with an air of discomfort. He can't just walk in there as himself, he has to go there as his name and nothing else. Knocking at the door and standing outside in his best clothes that he'd bothered to keep, waiting for someone who works inside to open the door for him and show him up to Roman's room. It's all so pristine, so...uptown, like they're trying to cling on to the last preserves of normal society but Patton thinks it's almost as if the royals were trying to hold onto their humanity. Roman too to some effect, them all really; Patton doesn't consider himself immune to this sort of behaviour just because he was getting used to living in bolted up basements and the underbelly of Utopia. As long as he lives his existence depends on the suffering and persecution of others. 

When he's finally shown upstairs, recognised by a server who walks him up and then bids him farewell (rather used to his visits to the prince), Patton knocks at the door before folding his arms, a firm expression written across his face. “Roman?” he calls after a moment of silence in which it felt like the other man wasn't getting up to open the door. The sound of movement and a sigh is heard, before the door opens to reveal a man sulking like a teenager, eyebrows furrowed. “Are you pouting at me because I didn’t listen to you?” The Prince shakes his head “Then why…are you upset?” He watches as the other seems to draw into himself, taking a moment to gather his words.

“You never seem to listen, Patton," he shakes his head "And for once this isn't about my pride, but you’re going to get yourself killed,” Roman chokes on his words, cracking, the idea of the only friend he’s ever had, the only man he’s truly ever loved, might die because he wouldn’t heed his warning. “You invite trouble like it’s your best friend,” He whispers "...and it’s breaking my _heart,”_ Patton blinks, he was used to Roman flirting, making sexual innuendos, being an asshole.

He is not used to his sadness.

He rests a hand on Roman’s shoulder “I’m sorry, I hadn’t realized this was affecting you so much,” The prince wipes his eyes “One day I might get killed Roman, there’s not very much I can do about that.”

“And you’ll have lived your life never truly loved at all," The words are quite bitter and they feel like something sharp push through Patton's heart. "You will have lived and died, dedicated to the idea you don't intend to make it past thirty and it doesn’t matter to you at all, that you’re the only one of you, not as a leader, not as the heart, but as _Patton,”_ Roman’s hand takes his own. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you I love you before it genuinely sinks in with you, that I will never get another you, Remy won’t get another you, we will have _all_ loved someone we lost and never got back.”

He’s right, Patton hadn’t really thought about that. He'd spent so long worrying about his friends he hadn't actually considered the possibility that they will miss him if something were to happen. Patton is used to loss, his parents died when he was young and all he's had as a constant is Remy, he'd spent most of his life with only Remy and protecting Remy and also encouraging his best friend to do things that he really shouldn't be doing. For some reason he hadn't thought that he would die first, that they would mourn him, he just thought they'd go through life as always. Also, Roman _loves_ him, not in a playful tone, but by the tears a genuine love that he had just let float past him. “Patton, if you have resigned in your fate and refuse to relent in your stupidity, then _please_...let me love you first, stop demanding that everything but yourself must come first,” he supposes the enigmatic prince had reached his breaking point with facades now. As he lets Roman pull him closer, his eyes wide and warm and kind and so, so _sad_.

So when he kisses him, it doesn’t surprise either of them. When he tastes like wine and tears it doesn’t surprise Patton at all, yet there _is_ this feeling that he hadn't thought this day might come. When they pull apart and Roman holds his bedroom door open, Patton says “I shouldn’t,” with such a cautious, quiet whisper. He has things to do, Remy will be expecting him back tonight.

“Just for tonight, be Patton, and no-one else,” Roman's sad smile looks so inviting and Patton wonders if all the men that Roman has dragged in and out of his eclectic life had ever been given such a look. Patton thinks perhaps not, Roman is a fool but he is not a liar. He takes his hand and that smile and allows himself to leave the corridor into somewhere a little warmer, the sound of the door closing the last thing that corridor would hear until the morning.

\--

Remy realises at about 9PM that Patton had not come back. He hums to himself a little in amusement and decides that it's probably not his business. "So..." he turns to Janus, who is staring at his workbench with a cigarette between his lips "...I hear you like to blow shit up?" The burned man grins wolfishly, tilting his head to the side a little as if to say _'yeah, and?_'. "You were quite the troublemaker when you were younger, I still remember the papers about you, they were considering shipping you off to the ground world, I mean after all that shit with..." he gestures vaguely "...I always wondered how you escaped that fate twice." 

"I'm good at talking," The blond shrugs lightly, blowing smoke up to the ceiling for a second. "That and I actually had the police's favour when I put a bullet in that man; if they'd have killed him first I would've missed the satisfaction of pulling the trigger, but I also would've skipped this..." he points to the burn scars on his face. "The first time though...damn was I close to being one of those poor bastards down there, I'm not as rich as some of these folks, hence why I do manual labour all day every day, so I couldn't buy my way out, all I had was the ability to lie through my teeth and that's how I got away, told them I was a changed man, that it was a case of temporary insanity because my wife left me." 

"Wife? You were what? 17?" 

"Yeah well, you know people around here, they'll sell you off to a wife for tuppence." 

"What actually happened?" Remy asks because he's actually curious and also because he's enjoying talking to someone who is new and interesting.

"With the explosions? Workers union," he shrugs "They were cutting our pay so we blew up our bosses houses, but I'm the guy that knows how to make explosives so it all fell onto me eventually...with my wife? Ah well, she was a lovely girl I'll give her that but not my type." 

"What is your type?"

"Men, mostly."

Remy snorts. "Yeah that would be a good reason to get a divorce..." then he sighs, "...okay I'll warn you now, Roman will flirt with you, he seems to think he's irresistible _please_ ruin his ego on my behalf." Janus laughs and nods, bringing his cigarette back to his lips and taking a long inhale, they both sit in the silence for a moment. Remy is honestly enjoying the quiet company; he enjoys Virgil's company too, but the automaton can be very curious and is quite obviously starved for attention which is not a fault, but can be difficult when the scientist is trying to do his work. As for Roman and Patton, he cares greatly about them both, loves Patton like a brother...but they don't half give him a fucking headache sometimes.

"What about you, what's your type?" 

The other man gives a smile but it looks more like a grimace. "I don't have a type," he replies gently, before looking down at his workbench. "I've never been in love in that sense, and it's very likely I never will be, I don't feel attracted to people like that." 

Janus raises his eyebrows a little before shrugging. "Lucky you," is all he says in the end, and his response makes Remy smile just a little.


	8. Time and Weaponry

The Timekeeper; introduced as a man with little emotion, so cold that ice would freeze on his skin. Ironically, this reputation comes from his history. Brilliant man, brilliant mind, not a lot of time to be kind. People say he has power, the power to understand the progression of natural time, outside time as a manmade construction but deep within the thunderstorms and the rainclouds and the pressure of the atmosphere. In reality, he just understands science. Simple-minded gentlemen will never understand what that means, they don’t see nature only magic, Remy however, was no gentleman and simply not simple-minded.

However, sometimes he wonders what he’d do for this revolution when he’s staring down the barrel of an old Smith and Wesson pistol. “This is really not how I’d like to die, so from one scientist to another can you get the metal out of my face,” Logan’s lip quirks just a little, but he lowers the gun.

“I know who you are and why you’re here,” The Timekeeper starts “I don’t need more trouble than I already have, Dreamweaver,” Remy grins, he shouldn’t be happy about his reputation, how it basically diminishes any anonymity. But some part of him is a little proud “I’m not joining your cause,”

“And yet you know, but kept your mouth shut anyway,” Logan’s jaw tenses. “You have ships, firearms, ammunition, and you know something isn’t right,” He stares past the captain to his ship, the largest ship in Utopia, hand-built with wonderful craftsmanship. The man was nothing short of a genius, but instead of being known for his intellect, he’s known for his heartlessness.

Yet, Remy _is_ here, alive.

And so is Virgil.

“I need nothing from you.”

“Have you seen Virgil lately?” The man steps back, blue eye blinking in surprise. “Virgil?” Remy calls out to the shadows and the automaton moves forward from the shadows, his hood pulled back from his face “He looks nice doesn’t he? If I had any interest in the matter I’d even say he’s rather kissable, but I am unfortunately married to my work,” Virgil’s lips quirk into a nervous smile “If I can do that for him, imagine what I could do for that eye of yours,” Logan’s hand twitches and he reaches up to brush his fingertips over the cool metal patch.

“And in return?”

“We need someone on the ground, that’s where the weapons come from, we need other supplies too, medical, rations, water,” Logan’s jaw tenses “I know you’ve seen what it’s like down there, people are dying on the streets, they are no less human than us, and yet there are automatons up here with more rights than the children starving on the streets of the ground world, there will be a war, _Timekeeper_, and you’re either on our side or not, but so far the odds are in our favour.”

“Because of the prince,” Logan sighs, rubbing his temple slowly. “Who do you work for, Remy?” Remy looks over at Virgil, who shakes his head slightly. “I see, the sort of man I have to meet in person?” Virgil nods in response.

"If you come with us you can meet the Heart,” Logan sighs and turns, grabbing his coat from the railing and shoving his revolver into its harness, he whistled over a few shipmates and told them to wait here and make sure no one sneaks onto the ship, with this command he raises his eyebrows at Virgil.

“I’ve had enough stowaways to last me the year,”

–

Patton had a cigar hanging out of his mouth by the time they’d walked through the door. Roman was leaning against the wall, looking way too pleased with himself. Virgil exchanged a quick glance with Remy, catching the roll of his eyes, to be discussed later perhaps.

“Logan Sandelin, meet Patton,” Patton’s eyes grew a little wide behind his goggles, stepping forward with the cigar hanging from his fingertips. “Or, more pressingly known as the Heart,” Patton pushes his goggles from his eyes, letting them dangle around his neck.

“You’re taller than I thought you would’ve been,” Logan laughs shortly in response “I suppose we should talk business then?”

“I haven’t agreed yet,” Patton nods, handing him the cigar, he studies the embellishments before taking it “You have good taste,” their eye contact remains like they’re searching each other’s expressions for the slightest waver, the slightest hint that something isn’t right.

“Well, first of all, they’re my cigars,” Remy interjects, snapping his fingers in front of their faces “...and second of all there was enough sexual tension as it was, so lets quit the extensive eye contact,” Virgil bites back a smile, before clearing his nonexistent throat and nodding seriously. “Welcome to my lab by the way Logan, you will, if you agree to work with us, be free to use it as you please, I know there’s a lot of science behind that big brain of yours, and I’m curious to see how it works."

Typical Remy, as fascinated with someone’s mind as any other man would be in his sex drive. “I’m more familiar with physics than chemistry, but I can’t lie that that doesn’t intrigue me,” Logan looks away from the other and inhales more of the cigar “I’ll finish this,” Patton grins and nods, pulling up a chair. “So is this all? A prince, a mad scientist, an automaton and…you?” The other shakes his head.

“There are over 600 people on our cause, we just keep things running and…well…” He glances over at Roman, who nods, Remy sighs and grabs his bottle of scotch “Someone you don’t exactly play nice with, I believe you’re responsible for his third-degree burns?” Logan’s eye narrows with a look that is not kind at all on his face.

“You want a liar and a cheat on your side?”

“I want a man that is good with explosives on my side,” Logan blinks slowly. “If you want a good job done sometimes you have to hire bad people,” Remy swallows a mouthful of his scotch and hands the bottle to Logan who takes it with a look of disdain on his face, swallowing some of it and leaning back in the chair. “Now whether or not you play nicely is not up to me, I can’t say I care, you never even have to interact with each other, but a man who can handle his own with explosives is someone I’m going to need, I will burn this place to the ground if I need too," Patton sighs a little, pushing his hair from his eyes as he leans back in the chair.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Logan stated incredulously.

“He’s long since accepted that,” Roman speaks for the first time, and takes the scotch bottle to pour some into his now empty glass, before handing the bottle back to the captain who certainly looks like he needs it “...you can tell him a million times and he won’t listen,” the same exhaustion and admiration is in Roman's tone that Logan feels internally for Patton.

“My priority is that this place, this city, stops its oppression and maltreatment of those on the ground-world, they’re being used as slaves and never see an ounce of the reward because we steal everything from them, and then kill them if they step out of line,” a stressed noise passes over Logan’s lips, he hands the scotch back and stands up, taking a hit off his cigar.

“And are all of you willing to die for this? Even if you fail?” Virgil looks down at his feet, Remy at the floor, Roman is the only one that dares look into his eyes, but it’s Virgil that speaks.

“None of us really had a life before this,” The automaton says quietly “Roman likes a challenge, Remy has only known this life, a life with Patton, a life wanting to change something that is wrong and me? I had only wanted to die before someone gave me a cause to live, so I guess I’ll die for it if that’s what it takes, god knows I’ve got nothing else,” he meets Logan's eyes as he finishes what he's saying, and not a single ounce of it is a lie. Roman would die for Patton if nothing else and Remy couldn't see a life that isn't full of sneaking around and causing havoc. Virgil just...didn't have a life at all; he was never made to have a life and he'd never see a normal one no matter what he does.

“Which is why I understand this is difficult for you,” Patton says quietly “...you have everything you want, you don’t want _this_, but I also know you see that world every other day, and you know it isn’t right,” There’s a long silence, Logan smokes and it pours into the world around him like a thin veil.

“Okay,” He mutters. “Okay, fine, I’ll help you,” everyone relaxes, a long sigh of relief echoing. “_But_ there is only so much I can help with, I can get you the supplies you need, and in a fairly large quantity, but you might want something a little…heavier, and you are currently taking on someone who knows how mechanics work like the back of his hand,” He glances to Virgil “You already have the one weapon they don’t have, a man who is very hard to kill, but I can build good weapons to carry, I built the ones on my ship from scratch,”

Patton nods, standing up and holding out his hand, Logan takes it. “Then I guess we’re in business, Timekeeper,”

–

“I hadn’t expected you,” Logan leans against the metal exterior of the lab, his eyes studying the metal sky with awe. “When they told me about the Heart and when I heard of the revolution, I had expected someone ruthless and bold, someone like me with no displayable emotion,” He sucks his cigarette between his lips and then shakes his head “I had never thought before that emotion might be the biggest weapon anyone can have, the power it holds over people without ever having to draw a gun,” He looks over at Patton “Now I think perhaps you might be the most ruthless person in this place, you feel everything they feel and you manufacture a weapon out of anger and sadness, even for me it's unnerving."

Patton shrugs with a smile “I suppose you’re right there,”


	9. Build God, See How That Works Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton has been Remy's best friend for most of his life, that will never change, but when a sweet young man wanders in, Remy might understand what it means to care for someone in a way that doesn't end up explosive.

Remy jumps at the sound of a knock on the door, his dark, messy hair spiking up in any and all directions as he cautiously pushes his goggles up off his eyes, resting them on his head before moving over to the door, staring through the peephole with furrowed eyebrows. There’s a man on the other side, wearing a floral waistcoat and eyeglasses attached to a rose gold chain. His hair is blonde, almost electrically so, and so curly it refused to stay organised atop his head. The Dreamweaver peels off his thick black gloves and slides the door open slowly. “May I help you?”

“No, I just have a habit of knocking on stranger’s doors because I enjoy it,” the stranger quips, his lips quirking into a small smile “Remy Sanford, right?” He holds out a hand, bouncing a little on the spot as he does so. “I’m a massive fan of your work, actually, but that’s not _entirely_ why I’m here, do you have a quarter an hour for a sob story?” Remy stares, blinking, behind him he can hear Roman snorting at his incoherency.

“Come on in,” he finally speaks calmly “...and don’t mind Roman, he's about to get a slap anyway.”

\--

His name is Emile, and Emile has spent most of his life hiding and on the run. “You see, when I was born I was born a girl,” Remy nods attentively “But I didn’t like being a girl, I thought that it was uncomfortable, I knew I was supposed to be a boy.” Remy only just notices that his voice is far too high to be a man’s, but there again he was too busy noticing how aesthetically beautiful he is. “So, I ran away, and I started presenting as a man, and as it turns out most people barely noticed, I started learning how to lower my voice and then I started wearing waistcoats and…it felt nice, it felt right.” He shifts a little and stares up at Remy “I was employed by Captain Sandelin for a while, you see, and we had a good relationship but the things I have been using to flatten my chest have done quite some damage to my ribs and he had to let me go because I simply could not do the work he needed me to do.”

“And you’re here because…you want me to fix your ribs?”

“Oh no, not at all, I did that myself, I’m here because I want a job,” Remy freezes a little and he most certainly does not miss the snort that leaves Roman’s general vicinity; for once, however, he does not have the energy to take the prince up on his antics. Never in his life had anyone walked into his place of work and asked how they can help him. “I’m not much of a chemist, but I trained as a doctor before becoming estranged from my family,”

“A doctor? As a woman?” Remy asked cautiously. “_Not_, of course, that_ I_ have an issue with that but I didn’t realise the academies were so open,” Emile laughs and it’s not unkind, but the sort of laugh that makes the chemist feel a little stupid.

"That was not quite the sort of medical training I went for, it was all very secret and fun, I learned so much about the human mind, I even cut one up," Remy's heart jumps into his throat at the smile that pulls at Emile's lips; it's not a feeling of fear, but the sort of thing a man feels when he meets someone he knows is about to become an important part of his life. The way Roman had felt when he met Patton, he supposes, but in a different way. "That's where I learned about you, actually, you're quite a hard man to get hold of, Dreamweaver, weeks of pulling unruly men out of bar fights to find your address, how on earth do you get clients?"

"With great difficulty," He grins and holds out a hand with a look of excitement. “Welcome, most certainly,” He gestures to his workbench “I am keen to know how you corrected your own ribs and start some very basic chemistry education, Roman, do me a favour and go fetch me some more coffee, and cigars, I feel we may be down here a while,”

\--

“I think Remy might have actually fallen in love,” Roman muses, leaning against the wall to his room with a bag of coffee and a box of cigars. “You should’ve seen the look on his face when the boy walked in, Patton, he was all eyes,” the prince looks nothing short of amused, twirling a strand of his long hair around his finger daintily as he stares out of his own window. "I have never seen him look at _anyone_ in such a way."

“Remy doesn’t fall in love as we do,” Patton hums, looking up from the paper in his hands “...his love isn’t romantic and that’s just how he is, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t fall in love any less, he loves me, and Virgil, and you in some way or another...he just also cannot _stand_ you,” Patton stands up and kisses Roman’s cheek, placing his papers on the desk. “I think this Emile sounds good for him and quite as reckless as he is too, he performed surgery on himself you say?” Roman's nod is accompanied with his hands resting carefully on Patton's waist, his thoughts leaving the conversation to focus on the beautiful man stood before him. "I have to admit, a man that was once a woman is a new one even for me, but it's certainly no issue if I can love a man why can't a man be a construct in the first place?" Roman's brain grinds to a halt as he tries to compute the words, his mouth opening and closing before he just nods in agreement. He's many things, a few cogs short of a functioning clock is at least number two on that list. “Nevertheless, I’ll keep an eye on our newcomer, if he really trained in more underground medical practices then who knows what he can do, I implore you to do the same,” Patton’s hand reaches for Roman’s and he presses the most careful of kisses to his knuckles. “I’ll see you in the evening,” the prince bows a little, causing his fearless leader to giggle in a way that only his friends truly see.

“Farewell, _mi príncipe_,” Roman utters dramatically because anything less would be heresy. Then he turns with the ‘supplies’ Remy has asked him to fetch and leaves Patton alone to complete his work.

\--

Virgil keys in the code and wanders into Remy's lab with a huff of air. "The amount of people who treat me with kindness because they have no idea who I am is..." He lowers his hood and turns to look at Remy, and his apparent company "...insulting," he finishes off quietly, raising an eyebrow with a questioning look on his face. "Am I interrupting?" Remy snorts at the automaton's awkwardness and shakes his head, leaning up off the desk to gesture to his companion.

“Virgil, this is Emile, he’s my new and only apprentice,” The dark-eyed man hesitates, before he smiles shyly, crossing the room to the newcomer and offers a small bow of his head that the men seemed to always exchange out of respect, holding out his hand to shake. "Unless of course, we take Logan into account but in all honesty, that man _is_ a genius," 

“Pleasure to meet you,” Emile beams “...you _do_ look rather wonderful, Remy was right, I’ve never seen _anything_ like you before,” Well, now Virgil knows for a fact if he could blush he would, once again unaccustomed to both kindness and light flirtation. “I honestly didn’t think I’d ever meet you; I’ve heard so many stories but…well some days I thought they were myths, how does an automaton become human?” There’s no teasing or hints of despise in his tone, his eyes are wide and full of extraordinary wonder as his hands hover respectfully next to Virgil’s forearms, shaking his head in excitement.

“Are you…?” The automaton falters in his words, glancing at Remy for a moment “I mean no disrespect it’s just your voice is…” But Emile only laughs, waving his hand dismissively.

“It’s no bother, come, you can ask me as many questions as you like but I certainly have a million and one for you, Remy tried to answer as best as he could but I’d rather hear it straight from the source,” Emile leads Virgil to the chair and grabs a cigar that Virgil can’t smoke so he declines politely, but he can’t help the excitement of finally meeting someone like him, somehow who has gone from one person to become another. Differently, yes, most certainly one is stranger than the other, a robot becoming human is the most peculiar thing anyone could discuss. But this does mean that Emile understands what it’s like to feel estranged, disciplined by society for something that cannot be helped.

Remy watches the two of them talk with a small smile and a shake of his head, pulling his goggles over his eyes as he wanders back over to his workbench, holding a glass of red liquid up before placing it over a gas burner, watching as the liquid changes colour as the heat begins to affect it. The door opens again and for once the chemist is not even remotely upset as Roman dumps a bag of coffee over on the table, with a box of cigars. The prince glances over to Virgil and Emile, acknowledging silently that he hasn’t ever seen the automaton talk quite so much. He meets Remy’s eyes through the goggles, only knowing that he can see him because of the hint of a smile on his face. “Patton will be here in the evening, he’s sorting through a fair amount of paperwork, Logan’s running his last round for the week and Janus told me to tell you to get those blueprints back to him,” He looks at the watch on his wrist, the gears turn in a way that suggests it may need oiling. “For the most part, he’s keeping out of trouble, which is good for us all.”

“Thank you, Roman,” Remy hums, tugging the liquid gently from the metal frame holding it over the flame. “Watch this, but stand back,” Roman does not need telling twice, and presses against the far wall, “_Christ_, you are such a baby,” the scientist snorts, holding up a metal cup and pouring some of the liquid in. He places the cup down on the metal floor and then stands back, grabbing a small glass vial and throwing it into the cup. Immediately there’s a loud bang and the entire cup goes up in flames, sending shrapnel flying upwards and outwards but not too far.

The prince goes incredibly pale as Remy puts the fire out hurriedly. “_Cristo_, You are a danger to society,” both Emile and Virgil look far more startled than their pride would allow them to admit.

“I think you only speak in Spanish because you think it makes you look smart,” the scientist retorts, picking up the fragmented metal off the floor “If I can just alter the…” he looks up at Roman and changes his mind on his sentence structure, “If I can make it explode a little slower we could have some highly flammable pocket bombs,” he tries again, and Roman nods in agreement, although he has absolutely no idea how that works or if it’s possible. For the most part, he just lets Remy sort out complicated things like maths and well anything that requires more than a basic understanding of how the world works. Remy dumps the hot metal into a bucket and turns back to stare at the liquid, he mutters many words that Roman, despite speaking two languages, could not understand, and then pulls his goggles back over his head.

The prince does not understand Remy. He admires him in many ways, detests him in others, but Remy is the antithesis of everything that he himself is. He’s known the man for a handful of years, but his attraction is aesthetically based only. Whilst Roman, notorious for falling in love with anything or anyone with a heartbeat, finds every man someone of a prospective romance, something his parents had not been very happy about.

Nevertheless, they all have more important things to be worrying about.

“So, you really performed surgery on yourself?” Roman catches Virgil asking with incredulity and so, turns his attention with interest to the two that were sat in the corner. Emile grins and undoes his waistcoat, rolling up his shirt, there are four neat scars, not counting the one's around bruised nipples. “That must have taken a fuck ton of anaesthetic,” Virgil mutters, tilting his head to stare “...incredible,”

“Pain is a temporary measure, long-lived happiness? It’s worth a few scars for,” Emile lets his shirt fall back down “It was hard, and I had help from my teacher, but I had to stay conscious because I was the only person who knew how it had to be done, I remember crying in agony, screaming in pain, and I passed out once it was done,” He stares down at his hands “But now, it’s only a distant memory, and it was done correctly,”

“That is incredible,” Roman muses, leaning against the wall “It’s almost a shame such a discovery could not be made public, I imagine it would help a lot of people and save a lot of lives,” The young man looks up at the prince with a look that could only be described as melancholy. For a moment, the prince thinks he can feel the absolute agony in Emile’s eyes and knows then that this is something that has kept the man up at night, all the people he could have helped if it wasn’t for the chaotic, messy, oppressive laws. “Either way, I’m impressed, and I’m happy you are happier,” even if it isn’t something he can understand, Roman’s never struggled a day in his life, he’s a prince. _Boredom_ is his biggest struggle.

The door opens and a dripping Logan shuffles in, pushing his hair from his pale face, he blinks a little at the crowd before sighing and grabbing the box of cigars off the top. “_Mi amor_, you look a little wet,” the prince’s quick change in demeanour has Remy rolling his eyes and shaking his head. _Men_.

Logan replies with _something_ in Dutch and does so far too cheerfully for whatever he’s saying in his native tongue to be remotely nice. The chemist sighs again, picking up his glass and placing it on top, wondering when his workspace became a home for wayward and powerful young men, he supposes having a reckless best friend is all he has to thank for his current situation. “What is it you are doing Remy?”

“I’m building explosives,” the distracted reply comes, Remy’s eyes watching the bubbling liquid cautiously “...and I’m trying not to blow us all up,” He looks over at Logan with a look that, although concealed mostly by his goggles, Logan knows fully well is unimpressed. The captain enjoys Remy’s company because of this, he’s bitter and blunt and speaks Logan’s language in the emotional sense. “So if you two can quit the dancing then that would be beneficial for us all.” The liquid sparks aggressively. “Shit,” He grabs a small beaker full of liquid and drips some in slowly, the beginning flames cool down. “Understood?"

Virgil snorts a little before standing up “I should leave you to it then, Emile it was a pleasure to meet you,” he grins, a smile that looks to be happier than anyone had ever seen the automaton give. Remy internally groans, wondering if he’s going to have to deal with their emotional frenzies for a moment longer.

“Roman, can you go make yourself busy somewhere that is not underneath my feet whilst I get these two to do what they are actually here for?” He looks up at the Prince “Whilst I obviously so greatly appreciate your company, do you not have a partner who would make more usage out of your insolent ass?” The raised eyebrow Roman gives him makes it known that Remy definitely walked right into that innuendo. “Out!” He gestures “begone, go!” He rubs his forehead as though trying to alleviate an imaginary migraine “Well then, gentlemen, let us discuss science." 


	10. Acceleration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy's always holding something close to his chest, and Logan admits he is no saint.

Patton and Remy had grown up side by side. At a young age, Patton had lost his parents and Remy’s parents, Lucian and Sofia who had been family friends, had brought the spritely young boy into their lives. They had loved him and for that, he can never thank them enough; they had given him a home and, more importantly, the best friend he could have ever asked for. Sadly they had also passed away when Remy was 17 in a freak fire accident. That had left two boys who were practically brothers with a large inheritance and a penchant for trouble, with nothing in the world but money and each other.

That’s when Remy had started learning. He’d found the battered old books in his father’s study, in a safe that he had to blowtorch his way through; it’s honestly a miracle the old things were still intact. At first, he had read because he thought it’s what his father would’ve wanted for him, something other than the rigid rules of a society that has never really admired the clever. His father was an intelligent man, but that’s not why he was loved, he was loved because he was _rich_. That was not a life he’d wanted for his sons, neither Remy nor his later adopted son, Patton.

Lucian had always known his child was perceptive, a nightmare to handle, an _utter handful_ from the day he was born, but Remy was always clever and curious. He was the sort of child to ask how the world works, wanting to know why the cars moved that way and why metal melts under fire. His greatest regret in the moments before he’d died was only that he hadn’t put those books in his son’s hands much sooner. Even then, he'd looked at the two and seen a fire in them that had reminded him of his younger days as an alchemist, a renegade in some ways; what the superstitious called magic they were afraid of and persecuted, but the man had always known it to be science and that knowledge was a tool that they would need to survive.

Remy likes to think that wherever his father is now…if there’s an afterlife or anything of the like, that he’s proud of his son. He’d always had a slightly rebellious spirit, and enough money to buy himself out of trouble, the worst combination really. His mother may faint if she knew that her son was dealing in illegal sciences. Playing God with people’s emotions. Creating humanity from something that only learned how to feel through metal and cogs. Some part of him thinks she’ll only truly be upset by the fact he will never find a “nice young woman to settle down with,” something she had told him was his life’s purpose. It would’ve broken her heart to know he never has felt and never will feel that kind of love, perhaps more than Patton’s love for men, especially men as high-maintenance and temperamental as Roman.

_And_ Logan.

Remy’s not blind or stupid, or nearly virginal enough to not notice the eyes that Patton and Logan are suffocating the room with. Some half of him thinks Patton has a type for men who are as clever as they are arrogant, or maybe just men that come with a thousand different types of issues. As if Roman’s narcissism wasn’t admirably irritating enough, he had to look at Logan’s bastardized version of caring and decide he loves that enough to be in his life.

It’s fine though, Patton knows what he’s doing well enough. Even though it’s entirely possible he just wants both of them doing as their told for all of their sakes.

Emile is a breath of fresh air from the extensive eye contact and general headache that having Roman in the same room as himself brings. The young man mostly sits in the corner of the room reading and writing, and he’s certainly a curiosity. A man who had been a woman, who had been taught to read and write and take apart someone’s brain like it’s nothing and has absolutely no part of him that is remotely legal. If Remy were to fall in love in that sense, he’d hope it would be with Emile. If he’s honest, he feels a way he hasn’t felt before for the man, he’s certainly rather beautiful but the way Roman and Patton discuss love he just isn’t sure it’s that, or well…he could most definitely _love_ Emile, but he knows himself enough to know that it’s not romantic.

Yet he doesn’t want to be away from the biologist. He wants to spend time with him and be in his company and listen to him talk, for hours and hours on end. Even his relationship with Patton hadn’t seen him so desperate to be around someone. And technically the boy is practically living in his lab, so it’s not an apparent issue on Emile's behalf.

He enjoys Logan’s company too in his own way, he’s arrogant and speaks in the sort of way that suggests he enjoys being the cleverest person in the room. He’s also not used to not being the authority, but he is, if nothing else, incredibly intelligent. His brain works at a hundred miles an hour and that is not something Remy comes across so often; his intelligence is astounding, as credited by the ship he designed and built, and the many medals for his brilliance that he has earned over time.

Virgil was right though; Logan is a lot softer than the reputation he’s built would have people believe. Which often leaves Remy to ask the question…what exactly did Janus do to get half his face burned off? Roman and Patton both seem to know, and well, everyone _knows_ that Logan did that, but the details always end up being hearsay.

He’s not _entirely_ sure that he wants to risk getting his brains blown out by either of them by asking for the details, either. But Remy is dangerous when he’s bored, and he has all the self-preservation instincts of an insect.

Logan visits his lab mostly out of curiosity and Remy likes to believe they bond over science, it’s a very professional relationship, which is far more than what can be said of Logan and Patton if his suspicions are true. Remy teaches him Chemistry; Logan teaches him Physics. It’s a win-win situation all around. In a moment of silence, Remy works up the courage to ask “What…What _precisely_ happened with Janus? What does a man do to have that sort of punishment?” Logan shifts uncomfortably under the question; the only time Remy has seen such an expression on his face. It’s such an alarming sight that he goes to retract his statement, brush it under the rug and say it doesn’t matter.

“It may have been an overreaction on my part,” the captain mutters “...the bastard fucking deserved a good beating but…he killed someone, a friend of mine, he wasn’t a good man and some part of me agrees with Janus’ actions, but it still _hurt,_” He places down the vial in his hand with a sigh. “The man in question was known to be a bit of a bastard, I was blind to the life he hid away from me no matter what others had told me,” Remy’s eyebrow raises a little, he supposes he understands that. He knows Patton does not always make the most wonderful choices for the sake of the greater good, but he’d stand by him anyway because he has nothing if he doesn’t have Patton. “Janus put a bullet in him, some say that was a nicer and quicker death than he deserved, cut straight through his brain, instant death and almost no pain.”

“But you were angry?”

“No,” Logan muttered. “No, I was _heartbroken,_ he was all I had,” He busies himself with the chemicals in front of him and Remy could see his hands shaking a little. He sighs and places his hands over Logan’s, pulling the chemicals gently from them.

“Not anymore.” In the corner of the room, Emile looks up at the softest-spoken words he’d ever heard in his life. He smiles a little, before returning to his book, pretending he wasn’t listening to their conversation. “Whatever that man did, he deserved it, and you don’t have to hold onto people who are toxic just because they’re all you have.”

“And yet you stay with Patton?” Logan asked “.._.not_ that he’s toxic, I really do believe his heart's in the right place despite the things I’ve heard of him, but if it were Patton…” Remy shakes his head.

“I don’t know,” there is a quiet silence and both man stare at the wooden table in thought. “He’s basically my brother, and I’m no angel, none of us is…we’ve all done things and made choices and sacrificed for a world that we need to build,” Remy exhales slowly. “A world that we get to build once this is over, no-one here deserves to live more or less than people down there, and if blowing the brains out of a slave owner is the hell-bound action I make, then I belong in hell with the rest of the devils.” He takes a deep breath, popping the cork from the vial and pouring it into the liquid, stirring it with a glass rod slowly. “Sometimes positive consequences are made up of negative actions,”

Logan nods slowly “I suppose you’re right in saying that.”

“Now, let me show you what happens when you mix sulfuric acid with magnesium,” Remy plasters on his smile, looking up, he catches Emile’s eyes and finds the other watching him in a way he is not unfamiliar with. His smile softens, becomes more genuine, and for a moment he feels the most at ease he could feel after that conversation.


	11. The Deviant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not that Roman hates his brother, it's just that he hates his brother.

There's an absence in Virgil's half-realistic eyes as he blinks at the two men in front of him. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again; a single small sigh brushed over his lips as he shakes his head. "How come you just never mentioned you have a brother?" He asks, slowly and with a look on his face that could be slight betrayal, or maybe just surprise. He himself isn't sure what he's feeling if he's honest. 

"Two of you? Oh my dear lord," Logan mutters under his breath, reaching for the bottle of gin that he had almost forgotten he'd left on the countertop. _Almost_. “Dealing with you alone, Roman, is hectic enough must you spring the surprise you have a twin brother so suddenly?” He pours the clear liquid into the bottom of the glass, before reaching for the lemonade. Remy leans anxiously against his workbench as though trying desperately to protect it from whatever shenanigans ensue when Roman and Remus are in one room together.

“I was hoping to forever avoid having to introduce him,” The prince’s arms are folded against his black shirt, his dark eyes narrowed in distaste as he glances to his brother. “Remus, you’ve met Patton and Remy before, this is Logan, Virgil, Janus,”

“I know who you are,” Remus interjects, his head tilting to the side, his mannerisms are similar to Roman’s. “I mean you’ve made some interesting friends that’s for sure,” His eyes rest on Janus, unabashedly staring at the burn scars on his face; but it’s not a look of disgust, or even intrigue on his face, but it still makes the man squirm in place under the heated expression. “I _would_ say it’s a pleasure to meet you but you’d all know I’m lying, I’m basically here because I’m good at causing trouble and Roman needs to keep me on a leash.” He grins, and then shrugs, “..._although_ I’m sure anyone of you could do that,”

Logan chokes on his drink. Virgil half-heartedly pats him on the back and not for the first time, is glad that he cannot blush. Remus’ eyes do not, for a moment, leave the blonde that is practically shivering under his gaze, cheeks flushed as he avoids the stare. Roman elbows his brother in the side with a firm look, shaking his head. _“Behave,_ if it’s possible,”

“It isn’t,” Remus replies curtly, but he tears his eyes away from the pretty man and looks over at Remy instead. “How’s your chemistry going? Anything blew up lately?” If there’s anything that Remy prefers, it’s that Remus isn’t easily startled or scared, which means he also has the same appreciation for making things go ‘_bang_’ as he does. Roman, however, is a little _bitch_. The elder-by-thirty-minutes brother brushes past the uncomfortable prince to get to the Chemist, who offers a sort of grin and gestures towards the workbench. Remy doesn’t _like_ Remus, he doesn’t really like anyone on a good day, but any chance to watch someone get excited over a bit of fire is a chance he will most certainly want to take.

“So how does that work?” Virgil asks absently “Is he also a prince? How come no-one ever realised he exists?” Logan raises his eyebrow, then shakes his head, holding up his hand in the universal symbol for ‘money’ before nodding towards Roman. Virgil doesn’t understand in the slightest, so he just blinks cautiously.

“These two aren’t exactly known for staying out of trouble,” Patton muttered quietly “Roman fucks anything with a pulse and Remus has a habit of blowing things up, and people.” He sips his drink. “People get paid to shut up, as long as anyone with any sort of influence keeps their mouth shut about his habits, and he stays out of the way, their parents can keep being rich and influential,” he almost looks a little sorry as Remus leans over the workbench to stare excitedly at the sparks flying from the glass that Remy is holding. “He’s a half-wit for sure, but sometimes I just think he’s looking for attention that no-one bothered to give him,” Logan finishes the glass and shakes his head, walking away to place it on top of the mostly empty table that is accumulating glasses and bottles. Virgil stares at the prince’s brother for a moment, before he looks away. Patton just looks tired, so very tired. Virgil wants to ask him if he's okay but he gets the feeling that is information he doesn't get to be privy too. "And he's a Duke, the prince's brother, even though _technically_...Remus is the oldest son," 

There's a quiet, and all eyes seem to fall to Remus, just for a second, until they make quick conversation out of absolutely anything else. Logan wonders, absently, how much trauma you can fit in one room, how much change and how much difference, and did it make any of them better or worse people? Patton was right, he had everything he thought he wanted, but he is a man with a hunger for knowledge. All these people are different and the same, shared by a passion for change or revolution, for fire or for glory, they are united by a single factor in it all: they know what it is like to be unloved.

He supposes he knows that too.


	12. Making butterflies out of firelights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy admits his feelings to Emile, and Roman pushes the wrong buttons.

Emile has read all of Remy’s books, and then his handwritten notes, and then he made a few things explode. He is a man of many words and he talks about his passions like his lungs would set alight if he stopped, and Remy…_adores _him. He adores him quite in a way he’d never expected to adore anyone before, and although the word ‘love’ makes almost zero scientific sense to him, from a standpoint of logic and reasoning…he would say if he had the chance he’d spend the rest of his life making things blow up with this man. Patton finds the dazed expression on his face whenever Emile talks amusing, he teases him and says he has finally met his match, and Remy does not argue.

But he knows he will eventually have to explain the truth to Emile, that the ice would have to be broken because the kind smiles are _too_ kind, and Remy does not want to lead this beautiful man to a heartbreak. He isn’t sure he could ever be Roman. “Emile, may I…speak with you?” He asks, his heart making strange rhythms in his chest that he realises is anxiety; typical, a man who makes handheld explosives finds himself shy in the company of a book-smart man. Emile looks up from the leather-bound book that has scrawlings of Remy’s notes across it with a smile that makes Remy’s stomach twist. “This isn’t a scientific matter, actually I want to discuss…our relationship,” Emile’s eyebrows raise a little.

“Okay,” He replies simply, placing a ripped piece of paper at the spot he was reading and placing the book to the side as he stands. He’s just a little taller than Remy, and he smiles so nervously that the chemist feels just a little bad.

“I…I like you, a lot, I…I feel a way about you that I haven’t felt before, sort of the way I feel about Patton but differently, Patton is my brother and I love him to all ends of the universe and that is something I’m sure you can derive but…with you, it’s like somewhere, like something I…” He stammers over his words as he closes his eyes, taking a huge breath into his lungs “I don’t feel love the way Roman and Patton do, it isn’t a romantic endeavour, it isn’t a sexual endeavour, it is simply a longing to be beside someone who I admire and care for, someone who occasionally I wish to hold their hand, someone who sometimes I would like to read a good book with, and spend forever with, but not in a way you would expect,” he opens his eyes and finds Emile chewing his lip.

“Okay,” Emile said simply, “I don’t _understand..._but that’s fine, I’m sure there’s plenty in the world to be learned, so you can teach me what love means for you if it is me you wish to teach,” Remy exhales softly, feeling his heart hammer as though he’d run a marathon. “If somewhere between romantic and platonic is where you want me to be, then somewhere between romantic and platonic is where I shall be, to be honest, I find your mind to be beautiful and that is predominantly what I want out of you,” he gives the sort of smile Roman gives when he’s said something into Patton’s ear that has him flustered. Remy feels his cheeks flush as though he’d just been handed a bouquet of flowers. “The mind works in so many different ways for each person,” Of course, a biologist. “Is kissing out of the question though because I do find myself wondering if you taste like alcohol and cigars as I suspect,”

Remy laughs, short and soft. “Maybe, but not right now, it’s not what I want right now,”

“And what do you want?”

“I think I’d quite like to hold your hand,” Emile holds out his hand, the palm face-up, and Remy takes it in his own, his thumb brushing over the other’s knuckles. For a moment, he feels emotion flood his heart in pure euphoric joy and finds that yes, he does love Emile, so _very_ much.

\--

Roman squints at the scientists with narrowed eyes as he sits in the corner. “You two are smiling far too much, Emile did you finally fix Remy? Did you ruin his honour?” He’s teasing, the tone light and full of the wrong sort of humour. “You know Remy, you manufacture emotions and hormones for a living, have you not seen fit to fix your libido?” Remy stiffens and for a genuine moment, Emile can see the other is hurt by the words before he fixes his expression to a calculated one.

“I don’t work miracles Roman, for example, I have yet to fix your lack of a brain cell, and like a moron, you still _insist_ on opening your mouth,” he sets down the beaker and takes a deep breath as he pushes his goggles out of his eyes. “Actually no, I don’t inject myself with these chemicals because I don’t need them, Roman, I am not broken, I am who I am and the way I was meant to be, I am not nearly insecure enough about that to go making messes out of my DNA like some of the men that wander in here,” his words are clipped. “Now I know you are only trying to be humorous, but perhaps I am so cheerful because I for once to not have to deal with a man who only thinks of how fast he can get his boss into bed,” Roman recoils a little. “If you don’t mind some of us do have actual work to do, not all of us have money coming in from mother and father like the only way we can be loved is through gold coins.”

“Rem…” Emile says softly, and immediately the other relaxes like a name can be so much more than a name. It’s then that Remy notices that Roman is shaking, his lips parted softly.

“Do you think Patton is only with me for money?” There’s a silence that stings them all, and Emile does wonder if he can taste the way the lack of response punctures Roman’s heart. “Is that what you think of me? Of him? That all I care is that he is in my bed and that he only loves me for what I can do for him?” Remy shakes his head.  
“No, I don’t, I think Patton genuinely thinks the world of you, but I still won’t apologise, you are always making jokes about how I am broken Roman, but it’s you and _always_ has been you who has been insecure and you don’t get to take that and drench me in it, I am happy about who I am, even if I am queer, or strange, or by your view needing to be fixed, I don’t want to ever change,” he gestures to the door “...please give me some space or this conversation is going to end much worse off,”

The door shuts behind Roman, but it isn’t a slam or even an angry shut, no it’s a defeated sort of sound, and Emile offers his hand to Remy, who shakes his head. “No thank you, sorry, I don’t want to be touched right now,” he offers a small smile and rubs his exhausted eyes, an expression on his face that says he is exhausted. “You’ve been working all day, you should go home and get some rest,”

Emile laughs softly. “Come with me,” he shrugs, Remy shoots him a look. “Not like that, I make the most wonderful home-made bread and pastries, and I have a good chess board, you need company Remy, and not to do with work...finish up, and I’ll cook dinner for you, you look to be the sort of man living off stale bread, and you could do with some weight on you,” the chemist laughs shortly and softly, nodding.

“Okay, I’ll let you cook for me...but that’s all,” he adds seriously, and Emile nods.

“Of course, I don’t want any more out of you Rem,”


	13. Atmospheres

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan and Remy get to working on some weapons, and a little softness for Remy and Emile.

Logan squints a little as he leans against the railing of the shipyard, his eyes scrutinising the blue suits as they talked to a couple of crewmates. He lifts his pocket watch out of his pocket and flipped the lid, staring at the seconds counting. They’re too early for a routine check-in but he could just be being paranoid.

He is very likely being paranoid. Still, the second they close their notebooks, they look up towards him. His eye narrows at them; it’s not much of a secret he’s not fond of the police, despite the fact that he’s a decorated captain of a very powerful ship, he’s not always been on the side of the law. Not just because of the company he used to keep either. 

As far as he’s concerned, men who are afraid of science either have something to hide or are dimwits. Unfortunately, the laws are very..._particular_ when it comes to science, there is a lot Logan couldn’t afford to learn when he was younger, especially when he first started out in his career and had a lot of scrutiny on him. He was always very logical, always clever, his mind could piece together things like life is just one great big puzzle...that and his sensitivity to the weather. It made the people who govern nervous and he understands why, because people like him, like Remy and Emile, they get things that other people don’t and that makes them more powerful than the governors, than the kings and queens, than the _police_. 

Science got them here in Utopia and science is, inevitably, what will bring it down again. 

The men in blue turn away from him and walk away, he raises his eyebrows to his crewmates and tilts his head to the side, gesturing for them to come forward. “What did they want?”

“Anonymous tip, apparently something shifty is going on in the ships, they asked if we’d had any stowaways.”

“And you said?”

“No sir, no stowaways this year,” they both grin, and Logan nods in approval, offering his lighter as one of them opens their little tin for a cigarette. 

“Good men.” They know when their lies are needed, their first priority is the ship and the captain under every circumstance. 

“I do gotta ask though sir, what are you protecting the automaton for? It’s no skin off our nose if the government puts the thing down.” Logan hums in acknowledgement, choosing his words carefully before he goes to speak. 

“It’s bad for business if nothing else, but believe or not, I do have a heart...whatever the automaton might be made of, it thinks and feels like a human.” He shrugs. “Plus we worked faster than ever when he was here, I’ve never seen you all so eager to get off the ship before.” He picks the cigarette off his crewmate and inhales. He’s gotten used to Roman’s cigars and scrunches his nose at the taste of the cheap tobacco. “Now get to unpacking this cargo,” he hands it back “...and put that out before you go anywhere near my ship.” 

He starts off down the path, shaking his head at the two men. They gossip more than the high society women but at least they know when loyalty comes first. “Will you want us closing up sir?” 

“Yes!” he calls back over his shoulder “...and do it properly this time!” 

The two men chuckle, and he cracks something of a smile. He has to admit his spirits had been lifted a little since his recent endeavours with the rebellion. It’s a little bit of energy that he hadn’t had before. Logan loves his job, he loves his ship and the crew he has, it’s his life and he’d never once think of himself as poor when it comes to the riches of enjoying it. But the danger, the fascination with science that he’d always wanted to know...that’s knowledge that makes him feel like he’s doing so much more than just living life. 

He slips between backstreets and down alleyways, following steps down to an old gentleman’s club, he walks through it, nods to the bartender who gives him a quick two-finger salute, before leaning down to pull a lever under the desk. A door slides open, Logan walks through it. 

And then he’s in the market. 

They jokingly refer to it as the black market, a place full of genius’ and madmen, the place you go to when you want to live or want someone killed. 

He follows down the metal doors, until he’s pushing open Remy’s. 

Logan already had the code, so he keys it into the metal door, walks through, and locks it behind him. “Evening,” he calls into the rusting room, walking over to see the alcohol of the day. Gin. “What’s the problem today?” 

“Logan! Just the man I want to see,” Remy peeps out from behind his desk, there are bits of ash on his face and his hair is such a mess that he looks the picture of a mad scientist. “So I made grenades, great right? Gave a few to Janus to try out wherever it is that he tries those sort of explosives out...I don’t want to know, anyway, next dilemma is more manual weapons that don’t go bang, I’m trying to make the capacity for these guns a little...bigger.” 

“Then you’re going to want something other than a revolving mag for your weapons.” Logan pours both himself and Remy a drink, handing one glass over to the other scientist as he scrutinises it. “Okay...I need a pencil, a piece of paper and something to measure angles and straight lines.” 

The two sit down and work for hours. Although Logan specialises in physics, weaponry was simply another fascination of his; not for much reason, he’d very rarely pulled the trigger on someone and to be honest, is just as interested in setting things on fire as Janus and Remy might be, but the fascination with the things that can kill is simply a sick desire that he can’t really shake. The only way he had previously got to follow these desires to create things, anything at all, was by doing it for the government; otherwise, he’d end up like Remy hiding out in a dark and rotting room to satisfy his curiosities. 

“I was told you lay into Roman fairly hard the other week,” the captain comments as he leans back, surveying the blueprints and sipping from his glass. 

“He was being an asshole,” Remy muttered back, avoiding the other’s gaze.    
“But you still have pity in your eyes.” 

“I was _perhaps_, a little harsh, but he still deserved it, I’m tired of being the one that has to deal with his insecurities when he has a boyfriend right there to see to him.”

“I get the feeling Patton doesn’t have the time to deal with petty things like a cracked heart,” Remy sighs at the words and shrugs, reaching for his glass and leaning back himself, he sips the beverage with a concentrated look. 

“That doesn’t mean it’s my job to deal with it either, in truth, these are things Roman has to deal with by himself because...no-one else is going to do it for him, and it certainly won’t be me either; I don’t deserve to be consistently made to feel bad just because he isn’t sure how to be confident in his own sense of self,” he shrugs, and places the glass down. 

“Quite right too,” Logan hums, tapping his ring against the rim of his glass absent-mindedly. “How is your relationship with Emile going?” 

“Logan, small talk is _not_ a good look on you.” The captain laughs in response and nods, he looks tired as he rests his glass back down on the table. “It’s going fine, he cooks me dinner and we talk about science, what about you and Patton?” Remy leans forward to pick up a pencil, writing in the margins of the blueprints. 

“I don’t know what you mean, he’s taken as far as I can tell.” 

“That wasn’t really the denial you thought it was.”

“...He intrigues me, but other than that I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong end of the stick.” He scans the blueprints, before humming and picking up a pencil, writing something beside and area and sketching over the existing lines. “We have a purely professional relationship.” 

“Are you sure about that?” He’s teasing, and Logan knows he is, but he gives the chemist an exhausted half-smile and Remy knows to drop it. “I think these blueprints are done, what do you think?”

“I think we’ll figure out any other problems along the way.” The two nod and finish their drinks, before they stand up to get to work. 

\--

Patton arrives sometime after the sunset, looking thoroughly exhausted. “The last errand of the day,” he mutters, throwing some paper onto Remy’s desk for the other man to read. “Logan, can I borrow some of your time please, I need to go through some things for you to look over, after all I don’t want to raise suspicion and you know better than us what’s feasible for you to acquire.” Remy raises his eyebrows at the two of them as they head towards the door, shaking his head. 

He’d never known 'The Timekeeper' as the sort of man who follows like a puppy, but he doesn’t half jump out of his seat at Patton’s beck and call. They all do, but he’d somehow expected the captain to be more resistant to following orders; maybe it’s just the general effect Patton has on people, or maybe it’s a classic case of thinking with something that is  _ not  _ his brain. Hormones make puppies out of these men, that much Remy has observed. 

As they’re exiting, Emile enters, cradling a basket full of pastries, he hands a couple to Patton and Logan on the way out and they thank him for it. “Have you eaten yet?” he asks once the door has closed, the scientist gives a sheepish grin in reply, his friend (partner?) rolling his eyes and holding up the basket wordlessly. 

They both sit at the table and eat, their legs brushing against each others under the table. “Since you’ve gotten here I’ve been putting on weight.”

“Good, you’re basically a pin needle with eyes Rem!” He could honestly live off Emile’s smile alone, he has such a pleasant smile...cheeky, the sort of smile someone who gets into trouble often has. 

“I’m not that skinny,” he replies, his mouth spraying pastry flakes over the desk. “I just forget to eat often, I’m too busy to do anything but work and I’ve never been any different, when I was younger my parents used to pull me to the kitchen to eat because I’d gotten lost in a good book, or become fascinated with a puzzle...or a drawing, I just tend to fixate on what it is my mind is occupied with.” He takes another bite and shrugs a little. 

“Do you ever go back home?” 

“Not really no,” Remy sighs a little, shaking his head. “After I got this place I just...I didn’t want to be there, it reminded me too much of my parents; I think Patton feels the same too, maybe that’s why he spends so much time at Roman’s home instead of ever going back, by the time it was just the two of us the dinner table just felt too empty and there were so many rooms...too many for just two people.” He looks at the pastry in his hand for a moment, before shaking his head, plastering on a small smile. “Anyway, that’s fine, one day I might get a house by myself...I can afford it, I just don’t know if there’s any point, I’m here so often.” 

“You need to take breaks though, even Patton goes to sleep and...to Roman.” Remy finally dares to meet Emile’s eyes, there are no expectations in them, just worry. For some reason his worry doesn’t feel suffocating or patronising...it doesn’t make him feel like he’s done something _wrong_ in any way. 

“That’s a very nice way to describe Roman as Patton’s stress relief,” he quips because the seriousness is suffocating. Emile flushes red, spluttering. 

“Don’t be crude!” 

They both laugh, although Emile’s lighthearted giggles make Remy think he might stop breathing just to hear only that sound. He holds out his hand on top of the table, Emile intertwines their fingertips; it’s a nice feeling, holding someone’s hand. He hadn’t really been touched at all in many years. 

He and Patton used to hold hands as children, but during their teenage years, there was a lot of pressure to become dependant people, men, and things such as holding a hand felt...somehow perverse at that time. 

Patton’s hand is not the only hand he held either. After his parent's death Remy tried desperately to fulfil his mother’s wishes, to find a woman, to fall in love but he simply...couldn’t. He’d have thought if it were anyone it would be Patton especially once Patton broke the news that he was attracted to men (it is the only time he’d ever seen the other unsure of himself, scared. He theorises that the fear Patton felt for his attraction is what lead them both down this path). He’d met with many women, he’d tried many different attempts at relations with women; but he found himself unable to be attracted to them both sexually and romantically. So he’d thought he must be attracted to men, then. But no, no attraction there either. 

For years he’d thought he was broken. For years he forced himself to keep trying until his body felt like it was a prison by itself, his own skin felt too tight to touch. 

And then he just accepted this was the way that he was, not broken or incomplete; in fact, he must be the most whole of a person he ever could be. 

Holding Emile’s hand and knowing that there are no expectations there, no bargaining...that the other man is simply satisfied with their relationship the way that it is. That makes him feel accepted in a way that not even Patton could do. It was never any bother to the other man in the first place and they were now practically brothers by everything but blood; Emile is almost a stranger, but in mere weeks he feels like someone he’d known his entire life. Remy had expected at first that he would get frustrated and want a more normal relationship...but he’s been nothing but respectful to something he doesn’t even entirely understand. 

Very few men would commit to a sexless relationship, he knows that much. 

“Can I lean my head on your shoulder?” Emile asks quietly. That’s another thing too, he always asks and waits for an answer, he understands that sometimes Remy does not want to be touched at all and it’s..._wonderful_. Like God had sent him a fucking _angel._

“Sure, but don’t start complaining I’m too bony.” Emile shuffles closer and leans his head against him, his eyes closing. He’d been running errands for Patton all day. Remy untangles their hands and wraps an arm around his shoulder, intertwining their hands again with his free one, that is a little bit caked in sugar and pastry grease. The other man pays no mind. 

Emile falls asleep after a few minutes, and for once Remy doesn’t think about his work or how much he needs to do, he just enjoys the intimacy and the feeling of being close to someone. When the door opens and Patton walks in, he lifts a finger to his lips with an almost dangerous expression on his face. Like a protective animal. 

The other closes the door quietly behind him, and wordlessly approaches Remy, he sits down on the empty chair, his eyes going from one of them to the other with a small smile on his lips before he shakes his head. “Logan’s going to be bringing some things here tomorrow,” he whispers quietly. “Janus is going to move them later in the night...but you should take the day off tomorrow, we can manage.” 

“Take the day off? Why?” 

Patton’s eyes glance at Emile before he shrugs. “Everyone else gets a day off Rem, and I’d like to hope you have a future after this, so why don’t you focus on it a little?” Remy opens his mouth to argue but falls silent as Patton mimics his earlier movement of placing his fingers over his lips. “I’m happy for you, it’s nice to see you looking so well.” Somehow his approval means the world to Remy, as he watches his oldest friend stand up quietly and exit the building. 

But some part of it also solidified a horrible feeling; Patton had said he’d hoped _Remy_ had a future after this.

But he didn’t say _“we”._


End file.
